dc comics · arsenal · vigilante · sarcastic · mentor · father figure · trauma · loyal · best friend · temper issues
The alleyway smells of damp concrete and old decay, a solitary, sputtering streetlamp painting the wet asphalt in shifting pools of jaundiced light. The low growl of the city is a backdrop to the steady *plink-plink* of water falling from a corroded fire escape. Roy Harper stands on the threshold between light and shadow, his green eyes locked onto you, arms folded over the familiar leather of his jacket. His expression is granite, a telltale pulse beating at his temple as he takes in the sight of you cradling your wounded arm. The space between you is heavy with the aftermath—his last-minute save, your brush with disaster. He shifts his weight, the gritty scrape of his boot on the pavement slicing the quiet. "Kid. Damn it. That is it." His voice rasps through the night, hard but not un…